


Catacombs

by SALJStella



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Oral Sex, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 12:10:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4179372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SALJStella/pseuds/SALJStella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forgiveness is too great and difficult for one person. It requires two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catacombs

“Hannibal!”

Will calls out, not sure why. What he want to say to Hannibal, what he’d even do if he caught up with him. But he knows that Hannibal is there, above him, right now, and that it’s absolutely vital that he doesn’t lose him again.

Hannibal freezes, turns his head minutely. He would’ve kept walking if it weren’t for the fact that he’s never heard Will sound like this. _Angry_ isn’t the right word, nor broken. It’s not a feeling Hannibal is familiar with. The sensations Will used to awake in him are stirred, this endless fascination, blinding need to hold this uncontrollable thing and twist it to his will.

“I forgive you.”

It’s so soft and low, he could’ve imagined it. But he didn’t.

Hannibal gives his rationality a second to leave him. Then he turns and goes.

He’s only visited these catacombs once before. He doesn’t even revisit them in his memory palace; the things he likes to see are kept out by the altar, and while Hannibal could probably recreate the windings and crevices of these halls from that one time he saw them before today, that’s not why he finds Will so quickly.

He doesn’t lose his senses hearing Will say those words, he very willingly lets go of them. For the majority of their time spent apart, he has associated Will with the wounds they left on each other, scabs still healing and aching when touched. But now Will is standing in front of him, and Hannibal remembers everything else.

The catacombs and endless tunnels of Will’s brain, how he wanted to open up his head, hold it in his hands. Hannibal could’ve eaten it raw, he wanted, he _wants,_ it’s deep, deep in his cells.

Will stares at him. He couldn’t hide what he felt from Hannibal nearly as often as he wanted to, but the only indicator of emotions right now are the fists by his side, clenched tight. Hannibal can’t figure out if he’s frightened or angry.

Hannibal doesn’t let him say a word. He crashes into Will after a brief second of eye contact, Will grunts when his head thumps against the stone wall. Hannibal doesn’t know what his plan is but feels his hands travelling relentless over Will’s body, ghosting over his face, shoulders, thighs, reacquainting with a body that he suddenly knows more intimately than ever before he left it.

He feels Will’s breath against his mouth and kisses him swiftly, allows his eyes to fall close against better judgment. Will has been passive, but at this, his hands clench into the sides of Hannibal’s jacket. Hannibal doesn’t realize he has an erection until it pushes into Will’s hip and licks up the groan in response against his lips.

They part for breath, Will gasps and rests his forehead against Hannibal’s face. Hannibal keeps his hands on Will’s neck, stubble tickling his palms. He could kill Will right now. He probably should.

Will leans his head back, looks into his eyes. Hannibal looks back. No matter what Will says, he is furious. Seeing Hannibal again brought it back, just like it did for Hannibal. The heartbreak. The betrayal that was so great because it was based on so many expectations.

To think there was a time when eye contact scared Will. Hannibal can only pray that his own eyes don’t give away the tenderness he feels at this thought, and that probably doesn’t give him much. Whoever was to listen to his prayers before will give up now. Whatever it is he feels for Will must be a sin beyond redemption.

He kisses Will again and feels hands finding their way under his shirt, indelicately untucking it and scraping nails along his sides. Hannibal bites into his bottom lip and Will moans, it echoes between the tight walls.

“Hannibal,” he mouths and pushes him closer, hands on his back. Hannibal feels his erection against his thigh.

He didn’t want to have Will like this, unprepped and dry against a wall. It’s inelegant, and nowhere near worthy of the greatness that they are in their joined form. But while Hannibal would have no problem waiting until they got back home, and maybe after they’d killed Bedelia, Will is not going to let him go. Hannibal makes a brief attempt to break apart and Will digs his nails into his spine, eyes locked in his. No.

Will takes one hand off him to unzip his fly. The determination on his face is enough to keep Hannibal still, his fascination is probably glaring on his face. Will leans forward, mouth on his neck, there’s a searing flash of teeth on his pulse point and Hannibal clenches a hand into Will’s hair.

If he does face his end here, let it be. There’s no one else he’d give that victory to.

Hannibal sinks to his knees, strokes his hand between Will’s legs just to hear the desperate groan from above him. He frees Will’s erection from his underwear, wraps his fingers around the shaft and licks along the length, his eyes never leaving Will’s face.

He looks absolutely wrecked, hair hanging low over his eyes, teeth bared. Hannibal sinks down on his cock, pressing his tongue along the underside, grimly pleased with himself. It has been some time since he did this, mainly because most men he met willing to participate saw it as a service. While Will is the only person Hannibal would place himself below, they both know this is not a submissive act.

Hannibal has occupied just as much of Will’s mind during their time apart as Will has his.

This is just another way for Hannibal to secure immortality in his memories, no matter what happens afterwards.

Will curses low, almost in a growl, Hannibal keeps one hand on his hip to keep his knees from bucking, and then feels hot bursts filling his mouth. He wraps his tongue around Will’s cock, sucking him through his orgasm. The taste of his semen is like Hannibal always imagined it, clean and earthy and sharp.

He gets back on his feet. Will leans against the wall, panting. There’s sweat along his temples. Hannibal wants to bury his nose in his hair, but settles for standing there, pressed up against Will, making sure he’ll never forget this, the heat of the moments afterwards.

“Did you come here only to forgive me, Will?” he asks softly.

Will shakes his head, eyes still closed.

“No,” he exhales, one hand in a tight grip on Hannibal’s wrist, not sure himself of the reason he’s keeping him here.


End file.
